Post by venus on Apr 20, 2012 14:36:49 GMT -5
The unrelenting heat from the plains had seemingly seeped the brightness from the sky, and late afternoon found Dask trudging back into Kabal’s north quarter dusty and tired from his misadventures. Disgruntlement made his movements stiffer and his walk less of a gait, but more of a march of a man who sorely searched for an inn who would have him for the evening. In fact, he was contemplating it intensely as he approached an alchemist’s stall, untying a leather pouch from his belt.
“I ran into some trouble out in the plains.” Dask muttered through a set of gritted teeth as he handed over the pouch, pungent with the smell of the plant and the heat, feeling that the look on the elderly man’s face was one that demanded explanation. Normally he would shrug this off, hand over the goods and hold his hand palm-up for payment, but after the day he had had he barely had the energy to be himself.
“You’re late. Shabby work, if you ask me...” The alchemist sighed, taking the pouch into his wizened hand and watching Dask’s face distort mildly with the effort to bite his tongue until the coins were in his hand. The Magundi shifted his weight from one foot to the other, resisting the urge to tell the alchemist, in more colourful language than the elder had probably heard in a long time, to get off his case and pay up.
He had gotten his damn herbs, hadn’t he?
After the very tedious ordeal of checking the good were in acceptable condition, a stack of coins begrudgingly exchanged hands, as well as a warning.
“You won’t get much work from people around here with that attitude.” The alchemist threw the remark over his shoulder as he turned his back to Dask, who made a tutting sound with his tongue, shaking the dust from his cloak as he set out on finding someone to take him in for the night.
“I ran into some trouble out in the plains.” Dask muttered through a set of gritted teeth as he handed over the pouch, pungent with the smell of the plant and the heat, feeling that the look on the elderly man’s face was one that demanded explanation. Normally he would shrug this off, hand over the goods and hold his hand palm-up for payment, but after the day he had had he barely had the energy to be himself.
“You’re late. Shabby work, if you ask me...” The alchemist sighed, taking the pouch into his wizened hand and watching Dask’s face distort mildly with the effort to bite his tongue until the coins were in his hand. The Magundi shifted his weight from one foot to the other, resisting the urge to tell the alchemist, in more colourful language than the elder had probably heard in a long time, to get off his case and pay up.
He had gotten his damn herbs, hadn’t he?
After the very tedious ordeal of checking the good were in acceptable condition, a stack of coins begrudgingly exchanged hands, as well as a warning.
“You won’t get much work from people around here with that attitude.” The alchemist threw the remark over his shoulder as he turned his back to Dask, who made a tutting sound with his tongue, shaking the dust from his cloak as he set out on finding someone to take him in for the night.